


Constant Knot

by rosweldrmr



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: AU Post 2x05 The End of the World, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9230633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosweldrmr/pseuds/rosweldrmr
Summary: “Come on, Liz. You’re miserable. He’s miserable. Whatever he did, just forgive him.”  (Polar) | Or the one where Michael tries to comfort Liz and she decides it's time leave Roswell for a while.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a bonus gift for all the Polar participants of the first annual [Roswell Gift Exchange](http://roswell-gift-exchange.tumblr.com/). You all are the best and I'm so happy we have new polar content . I'm looking forward to even more polar participants next year. Let's keep this fandom alive!

“You look terrible.”

Liz cracked one eye open against the midday sun at the looming silhouette that towered over her. “And hello to you too, Michael.”

“So,” he continued, casually ignoring the fact that Liz obviously wanted to be alone – seeing as she’d chosen a dark, tucked away corner of the gym to hide and eat (stare blankly at) her lunch. “How long do you think this is gonna last?” he asked as he slid down the wall opposite her.

In the cramped space, their feet almost touched. “How long is what going to last?” she asked as she picked at her ham sandwich.

“This thing between you and Max. He’s been moping for days now. Can’t you two just, you know, kiss and make up?”

“No,” she bit back, already beginning to pack up her bag. She didn’t really want to eat anyway.

“Come on, Liz. You’re miserable. He’s miserable. Whatever he did, just forgive him.” It wasn’t until then that Liz really took the time to look at him. She was pleased, at least, to see that he looked about as awkward as she felt.

“What are you, his message boy?” she pushed. She knew just how to make him pull away; to get mad and storm off. She knew them all so well. She wondered if Michael would have danced with her on her wedding day, in Vegas. The thought came out of nowhere and left Liz reeling. She turned away sharply to hide the fact she was, once again, fighting back tears.

“Whatever it was, it must’ve been bad.”

When she did finally turn to look at him, she was surprised to see that his eyes were firmly fixed to the toe of his boots. “Why do you say that?” she asked, careful to control the tone of her voice.

“You wouldn’t push this hard unless it was really bad.”

“Push?” she asked, and hesitantly met his eyes.

“I’m pretty good at it too. Pushing people away. Especially when I really need them.” He scratched his eyebrow and hastily diverted his eyes.

And every second that he sat there, trying to comfort her, trying to get her to forgive Max was painful. Yes, it was bad. Very bad. Earth-shattering, end-of-the-world kind of bad. The kind that Max couldn’t even share with his best friend. The kind of bad that would never be fixed, that she wasn’t _allowed_ to fix. The pain she caused would be her fate for the rest of her life. And it was too much.

Too much to ask, too much to lose, too much to give up, to walk away from. Too much to have taken away. Love, life, happiness. Everything she thought she would never have but secretly wished for anyway. And it was like being handed the keys to the future; the great power that came with the knowledge that their love was so strong they defied destiny. Then finding out she would never have it. Knowing it was taken from her because of things beyond her control.

“I don’t need you,” Liz finally whispered through the tears she couldn’t fight. “I don’t want this. I never asked for any of this!” As the desperation overtook the pain, her voice grew. “I didn’t ask to be saved. I never wanted to be saved. I should’ve died. You should have stopped him that day in the diner!” Wild-eyed and frantic, Liz pushed herself to her knees and jabbed her finger into his chest.

“What’re you talking about?” He drew back, flush against the wall. She knew she must be freaking him out. “You can’t mean that.”

“Of course I do! You ruined my life! You took everything from me, everything I had. I had to turn my back on my family, lie to my friends, break laws, and give up things that no one should ever have to give up. And I did it for all of you, to save you!” Somewhere between desperate and crazy, Liz managed to twist her fingers into the fabric of Michael’s shirt. She yanked him upright and as she did, she felt her nails rip the fabric of his shirt. But she didn’t care. She’d lost her ability to care. Caring only made things worse. It only meant that in the end, she was destined to be hurt. Over and over again.

“Who needs saving?” His bravado kicked in just when she would have expected it to. Michael was always independent. The idea that he might owe her or anyone was something he couldn’t handle. She could see the anger flare in his eyes.

“Without me, you’d be dead,” she whispered darkly, leaning in until she was just inches from his face. “Without me, you will die, Michael. I saved your life. You should be grateful.” She practically purred the last part against his cheek as she whispered right into his ear.

When she pulled back, she could see his eyes narrow and he extricated himself from her grasp with little effort, tearing his shirt more as he yanked her hands from his chest. “You’re insane.” He shoved her back against the opposite wall and scrambled to his feet. There were tear drops on his dark green shirt.

She pushed too far. She knew it the moment their eyes met. He wasn’t Max. He wasn’t afraid to hurt her, and she’d driven him to the point where she was sure logic was a fleeting thing. She felt small, looking up at him in the narrow space.

“I don’t know what Max sees in you anyway. You’ve caused nothing but trouble since he saved your life. He was tortured, Nasedo’s dead, and we’ve been hunted and nearly killed at least six times. And you think you’ve had to give up something? How about freedom? How about a chance to just live?” He crouched, resting an elbow on one of his knees, and grasped her chin in his other hand. “You only ever get in the way. You’re a nuisance to everyone around you. You always think you have to be right, little miss perfect with your straight As. You’re nosy and bossy. And Max is better off without you.” He released her, obviously pleased with whatever passed for horror in her eyes. “I don’t care what he did to you; you deserved it. So good riddance.” He smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt and turned back down the long walkway behind the bleachers where she’d been hiding.

“I slept with Kyle,” she told his retreating back. He stopped walking for a second before he continued on.

“You’re lying, and you’re hiding something,” he called over his shoulder as he reached the door. “I know what kind of person you are.”

The door swung open and the arid breeze lifted her hair around her face, along with his parting words.

When the heavy door slammed shut behind him, the resonating sound of her sobs were cutting. She cried in the hall after the lunch period ended and the tardy bells rang. Too distraught to go to class, she continued to hide all through the next period too. She just couldn’t bring herself to face anyone, not when she was still feeling so raw. Finally, she gathered her books with shaky hands and under the cover of bustling students headed for their next class, she slipped out the side door and ran.

She ran all the way home. Her lungs burned, and she felt tears returning. She dropped her bag in the alley behind the Crashdown, but didn’t stop. She kept on going. Down Main to 2nd. And from there she passed the train tracks and kept going. Past the warehouses, past the Mason’s Hall, past the town limits. She hadn’t run like this since she was in junior high. She didn’t know where she was going. All she knew was that she had to get away. She had to leave Roswell, leave Max, leave Michael with his annoying, perceptive, no-help-whatsoever attitude.

She passed Bridge and Seminole, to where 2nd becomes the 380. It stretched out like an asphalt carpet and the smell of the cow yards from Dexter and Wichita blew in on the afternoon breeze. She kept going, past the ‘Welcome to Roswell’ sign, to where turnoffs were far and few between and cars were seldom occurrences. She ran until the sun crested orange and pink at her back.

She turned down the old highway dirt road and pushed her legs farther, faster. It felt good. She was too busy running to cry. She made it to the northern tip of Bottomless Lakes just before sundown. She collapsed at the end of the salt marsh and threw up into a bush. At least then, when the heaving breaths didn’t calm she knew it was because of the running, and not the tears.

Broken, and buckled from grief and guilt, and exhausted, she held her sides as though they would split down the seams with regret. There was no thought of what came next, or how she would get home. Nothing existed beyond the pain, beyond the debilitating, desolate hopelessness. She did cry then. Because she had nothing else left. She curled into a ball at the foot of one of the large crater-lakes.

She couldn’t remember the name; it’d been years since she’d been out here. She used to come every year for her birthday. They would hike and swim and have a BBQ. It all seemed like so long ago, like someone else’s life. A life before aliens and government secret agents. Before Max ever loved her, before her heart was broken so irreparably, she didn’t think she’d ever love again.

And that’s where she was when the park ranger found her. Still crying, contemplating a lonely life that she would never fully repay.

“Miss?” Liz glanced up through her eyelashes, and smeared dirt across her face when she tried to wipe away the tears. “Are you okay?”

He was young; probably no older than Maria’s cousin, Sean.

“No,” she mumbled and dropped her head back to her folded arms.

“Are you hurt?” It seemed like a logical question to ask, and Liz was surprised when a laugh bubbled out of her throat.

“I ran here,” she spoke into the crease of her inner elbow.

“From town?” She could hear the shock in his voice.

“Mm.” She nodded her head. “Tired.” The more she tried for coherent thoughts, the tougher it became to use things like words.

“Well, yeah. You ran over 13 miles.” She felt his hands close around her forearm and let him haul her to her feet. “I was just about to head home for the day. I’ll give you a ride back into town.” He shifted his arm around her back, and she leaned on him. From the corner of her eye, she could see him appraising her. “Your folks run the Crashdown Café, don’t they?”

“Ugh.” Liz was exhausted, too exhausted to pretend like she didn’t hate how everyone in town knew who she was. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“What, at Bottomless Lakes?” He cocked his head as she shuffled her feet through the dirt.

“I can’t go home. Not right now.”

“Well, we’ve got some RV sites but that’s about it.”

Liz whimpered. She couldn’t face going back to her room, to her balcony. Max was everywhere. She was foolish to think she could just go on pretending that it would be okay. She realized then that she would never feel at home in Roswell again. She sacrificed enough already for them. She would beg her parents to let her stay with her father’s brother and his wife in TrC for the last year of high school.

“You could always stay in the ranger station. There’s a couch, and a blanket. I’ll be back in the morning if you want me to have your folks come get you.”

Liz smiled. Sad and sweet. This is how life as she knew it would end: with polite smiles and khaki.

“Yes, please.”

She was asleep before he carried her into the small station. And when dawn crested in through the windows to the east, Liz was resigned to be someone else, someone who didn’t need to be loved. Someone who could leave her friends and family, and the life she almost had, for the sake of those she loved.

Her parents were frantic when they showed up. Ranger Dan must have called them that morning to let them know where she was.

“We were so worried.” Her mother stroked her hair and rubbed her shoulders.

“You ran all the way here?” Her father flipped his hair out of his eyes and helped her to the car. She laughed and let them lead her home.

“Tell us what happened, sweetie.”

“Was it Max? Did he do something to you?”

“No, dad. Max is great. It was me.” She spoke to her lap, mustering the courage to cement the lie. “I slept with Kyle.” The sound of screeching tires and the jolt as the truck lurched to the shoulder jostled her resolve.

“You WHAT!?” Her father turned in his seat; his hands were shaking. “Did he… did you… Did he hurt you?”

“No, dad! It wasn’t like that. Kyle’s sweet. And he was over last week for a project, and one thing just led to another. It was an accident. Max found out; he came to the window…”

“Oh, honey.” The disappointment was palpable from her mother.

“I’m sorry. I let you guys down. I let everyone down. And by tomorrow, everyone will know what I did. It wasn’t Kyle’s fault. I -- I just wanted to prove I was over Max. Or something. I used him, and now he hates me. Max hates me; Maria’s going to be mad because I didn’t tell her. I just…” The waterworks started and she let it. Anything to get out of Roswell. “I can’t go back there. I can’t stay in Roswell. Please, let me stay with Aunt Kimmie and Uncle Sam in Truth or Consequences. Don’t make me go back.”

It was comforting, cursorily so, to know that they still supported her. Even when she messed up, over and over. Even when she ran away. Even when she left her life in ruins, her parents were still there to help pick up the pieces. At least she still had family. And the Parker family took in troubled nieces with open arms.

She spent the rest of the day packing. So by the time Maria arrived for her shift, all that was left was a bare bed and boxes in the hall.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? Leaving where?”

“I’m going to stay with my dad’s brother in TrC.”

“But that’s like six hours away!” The hurt in her eyes was almost too much to take.

“Maria, I have to.” Liz took Maria’s hands and pleaded with her to understand.

“Is this because of that rumor about Kyle? I told everyone it wasn’t true.” Liz felt a sudden swell of pride for Maria. She was so strong, so loyal. If she was only half as in control as Maria was, maybe she wouldn’t have to run away.

“It’s true.”

“No it’s not,” Maria replied without batting a lash.

“Yes, it is.”

“No, Liz. The rumor is that you and Kyle Valenti slept together, as in spent the night, together… naked?” With each passing second that Liz didn’t deny it, she could see Maria’s temper increase exponentially. “What’d he do to you? Did he force you?”

“God, no! Why does everyone assume that? I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.” She huffed and threw another jacket into her duffel bag.

“Making your own mistakes is more like it! How could you, Liz? What about Max?”

“What about him? I told him in July I couldn’t be with him. He just can’t take a hint. Look, what happened with Kyle was an accident. I didn’t plan it. He was just there, and he makes me laugh and he’s normal. You know? Remember normal, Maria?” She twisted the lie a little farther, just enough to bring her around. Maria never was exactly comfortable with the idea of aliens. “I need that again, and as long as I stay in Roswell, I’ll never have normal.”

“You don’t honestly mean that. You can’t.” Alex joined them, somewhere between ‘I’m moving’ and ‘I slept with Kyle’. He didn’t look as convinced as Maria. “Tell me, does Kyle know you had sex?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Liz snapped, throwing her hairbrush into a purse with more force than was necessary.

“Nothing, just… if Kyle Valenti did have sex, don’t you think he would’ve told people about it?”

“How do you think the rumor got started?” Liz retorted.

“You told Pam Troy in third period last week.” Alex crossed his arms and pinned her with an uncomfortably perceptive stare.

“You told Pam, but not me!” Maria threw her hands into the air and stormed out of the kitchen.

“Please, Alex. I need you to trust me. I can’t tell you why I did it; you just have to accept that I did. It was my choice, and Kyle was just being nice by not saying anything. I don’t regret it.” The last part was the hardest to lie about. She hoped it didn’t show on her face. But then again, knowing Alex, he would see her lying and still not say anything. Because that’s the kind of friend he was.

“If that’s what you really want.”

“It is.” She turned back to the small pile of clothes still on the counter ready to be shoved unceremoniously into her duffel.

“You know no matter how many people you sleep with, it won’t erase Max or how you feel about him.”

Liz turned to yell at him, but he was already slipping past the doors to the dining room. She would miss the smell of burgers and greasy fries. She’d miss her friends and her parents. She’d miss home. But at least this way, there was a chance that the constant knot that settled in the pit of her stomach since Max from 14 years in the future showed up could loosen.

She shoved the remaining clothes in her bag and downed what was left of her soda. “Here’s to living life miserable.[1]” The toast was hollow and she already missed home. She missed a place she hadn’t left. And it wasn’t until then that she really considered that the Crashdown hadn’t been her home in more than a year. The bullet took that from her, just as surely as Max gave her a new home.

Now she would just have to start again from the beginning.

By the time the truck was loaded up, Maria had wandered into the alley to beg her to stay a few last times.

“What about Max? Are you going to say goodbye?”

“I have nothing to say to him. You can tell him in the morning.”

“What about Kyle?” Alex asked from the street light, as he tied down the last box and covered the lot with a tarp.

“I’ll call him once I’m on the road tomorrow.” She averted her eyes from her father's.

“When do you leave in the morning?”

“Four. It’ll take pretty much all day to get there, and Dad still has to drive back after he takes me all the way there.” Her father grunted an affirmation and lumbered back into the diner.

“Do you want us to come by in the morning, to see you off?” Liz laughed quietly, the way she always did when she meant it.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” Alex was suddenly very interested in his hands, and there was a curious lurch in her chest. “I’m gonna miss you guys so much.”

She was blindsided by the crushing hug she found herself wrapped in. “Be careful, and come back whenever you want, okay?” Maria’s voice was lost between her shoulder and Alex’s arm, which circled them both.

“Call if you need anything.” He squeezed tighter and they all laughed together, almost like it’d always been. Before any of this began. Liz was homesick and heartbroken before the hug was over.

She couldn’t sleep that night. She hadn’t been able to sleep in her bed since Max visited her window. Instead, she curled up on one of the chairs of the balcony, wrapped in a pile of old, moth-eaten blankets she pulled from the linen closet, and watched the stars overhead.

She imagined a home out there somewhere, where Max belonged. Where he and Tess had great-great grandchildren, and there were giant monoliths built to honor them. She imagined that somewhere out there, there was another dimension, one connected to this world by time. In the other dimension, she was happy and married. Tess didn’t exist. Maybe in that world, she was the alien and risked everything to save Max. Maybe in that world Michael was her destiny. Maybe in that world, she was happy.

Rustling noises came from the alley and Liz was pulled from her musings.

She tucked her head farther under the blanket and held her breath. She prayed to whatever passed for God, “Not Max.”

The clink of rings on the drainpipe was the first hint. Michael pulled himself over the ledge a few moments later. He glanced at her dark room, and then to the pile of blankets she was under. “Is it true?”

“Wow, haven’t heard that question in about an hour.” She didn’t have the strength to pretend she was anything more than an empty shell anymore.

“You’re gonna leave, just like that? No goodbyes? No ‘sorry Max.’ Just a hysterical call from Maria babbling on about you running away.”

“Ugh. Don’t mention running.” Her legs were still sore.

“Oh, that’s right. You disappeared yesterday after lunch. I heard you ran all the way to Bottomless Lakes.” She uncovered her face and gave him a withering glare. “The ranger’s sister is in junior high with Paige Lafferty’s little brother.” He smirked, and in the reflection of the moonlight, it was almost enough to make her homesick all over again.

The thought of missing Michael, of all people, while he was still right in front of her was a catalyst. It propelled to the forefront of her mind the gnawing thought she’d had since she made the decision to leave.

She’d have to tell someone about all this. In case something happened with the Granolith, or Tess. Or if Serena showed up. “I’m leaving in a few hours. I can’t be here anymore. With Max and Tess. With any of you. I have to leave; please just understand that.” She sat up on the lawn chair and swung her bare feet to the cold concrete of the balcony. “You said yesterday I could trust you.”

He took a seat opposite her, on the empty chair, and gave her a quirked half-expression that was somewhere between amusement and frustration. “You _can_ trust me.”

“It isn’t just my secret to keep. It means keeping it from Max and the others. It would mean lying to your family. I won’t do that to you unless that’s something you think you can live with.” She clenched her fists in her lap and waited for him to decide.

“Is it something that concerns us?” The way he said ‘us’ made it abundantly clear he was referring to the otherworldly members of their group.

“Yes.”

“And this thing. That’s why you’ve been lying, it’s why you’re leaving?”

“I have to leave. I can’t stay here anymore. Not now that I know how it could’ve been.” She could practically hear the gears in his mind turning, spinning.

“Then I have to know.”

Liz nodded and stood, letting the blankets pool at her feet as she stepped away from their warmth towards him. “Make a connection.”

His head snapped up, like she’d slapped him. “I can’t do it the way Maxwell can. The only time I’ve even gotten a flash was with Maria.” He looked even more sheepish than he had the night he returned her journal.

“I know. But there’s too much, and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You need to see it for yourself.” She took another step towards him, mustering all the prowess she could. It wasn’t easy when he leapt away from her. There was a wild look in his eyes as he backed away. “Please,” she asked, weakly, clasping her hands together and staring at the floor.

“I can’t just touch your face, the way Max can,” he admitted softly.

“I know that.”

“When I was with Maria, we were…” he trailed off and Liz did her best to keep from giggling. She knew exactly what he and Maria had been doing. Her cheeks got hot, and she turned her head to let her hair fall across her face, hiding the blush.

“I know how it works, Michael.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She prayed silently that he didn’t make her ask again; she didn’t think she’d be strong enough. It was already painfully embarrassing and awkward as it was.

There was a long pause before Liz heard him mumble, “It doesn’t mean anything.” And she glanced up just in time to see him advance on her. She closed her eyes just as he was leaning down to meet her lips.

The kiss was awkward. His lips were pulled tight, and he wrapped one arm over her shoulder and the other under her arm, so she felt off balance and tipped backward with the force of the kiss. He didn’t move his lips, just pressed them to hers. And for a minute, nothing happened. Nothing at all. She held her breath and closed her eyes. But there were no flashes; there was no connection at all.

Her back was beginning to twinge from the strange angle he was holding her at, like he’d never hugged someone in his whole life. She repressed a sigh. Frustrated from the ineffectual and terrible kiss that was getting them nowhere, she pulled one of her arms from the loop of his and moved it up and over his shoulder to tangle her fingers together at the base of his neck. And as she did so, her nails grazed across the exposed skin there. It was a careless action, something that was spawned from trying not to tip over.

But that was all it took.

Something shifted after that. One hand moved up her back to catch her head in the curve of his palm while the other slid to the small of her back, just above her butt and pulled her to him. At the same moment, his lips immediately relaxed, like an instinctual reaction. It was easier to fold herself into his arms; tucked neatly between his forearms and chest, she tipped her head back just slightly as she raised to her tiptoes.

He pushed her backwards until she met with the bare brick wall. And she forgot to be awkward and uncomfortable. She forgot that this was Michael she was kissing. Because his lips were soft and insistent; he took feather breaths against her lips between dipping his tongue to touch the edges of her lips. She opened her mouth to him and everything logical was blotted out by the feel of his tongue sliding over hers.

In a fashion befitting Michael, he held nothing back. The way he argued was the way he kissed. It was open and strong and so full of passion that Liz felt her mind go numb. And the connection was forgotten; the flashes were irrelevant. The only thing her mind could comprehend was the tactile feelings that existed at a primal level. All sensations and need and heat: his hands on her back, touching the exposed skin where her shirt was pulled away by the rough bricks. His lips, full and pouty as they dragged down the slope of her neck; she raised her face to the night sky. His hips pressed against hers, pinning her to the wall and sparking an unexpected urge she was unaware of ever feeling for anyone but Max.

With one hand still holding her to him, the other moved to prop himself against the wall. And in the wake of his movement, it created a vacuum in the space between them, and Liz was drawn to him. She clawed at his shoulders, trying to get closer. And without meaning to or intending to do so, she pushed up with her toes like a pirouette (the kind she used to practice at home in front of her full length mirror when she was younger) and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He made a garbled, muffled sort of noise. Half grunt, half moan as he leaned the full weight of his torso against her and the wall. She pulled her lips from the kiss and breathed heavily past his cheek. She might have mumbled something, a supplication or affirmation. She really wasn’t sure.

The hand that previously occupied her back dropped lower to grip her butt, grinding her pelvis against his. The kisses became furious, desperate, like begging for your life. Her arms were up to the elbows around his neck when he pulled away to leave wet kisses down to her clavicle. The cold night air felt like electricity on the places where his lips touched.

But before she could whimper or beg or do much of anything but pant and thrust against him, she felt a trickle in the back of her mind. It was intermittent at first: a flash of the inside of a trailer. Just a short one, something she could have easily imagined, if it wasn’t for the fact that her brain refused to work at the moment. But eventually they came faster, with shorter intervals between.

Images of her as a child. An overwhelming feeling of isolation. A table lifting from the ground. The prickling sensation after being smacked across the cheek with the back of a man’s hand. Sadness, and prevailing anger. The anger grew as the flashes became constant, jumping from one image to the next. People staring; Max and Isabel crossing the street holding hands; the Evans playing basketball together in their driveway. The night sky, laying in the dirt. Longing feelings of home, of family, of acceptance.

She was beginning to reach a fever pitch of sensations and emotions. She could feel herself begin to spiral out of control.

Michael was still kissing her neck, and he whispered something that was lost as she saw a flash of herself being shot. She felt fear, and manic desperation. Fear for Max, for himself, for her. The sickly feel of jealousy as she watched herself with Max. Longing looks, and more fear piled high on indignant anger. She saw her journal, felt the pages of it turn under his fingers, and the feeling of compliancy. It was a strange kind of longing he felt as he read her thoughts. There was a sensation of kindred minds, similar thoughts, and an underlying connection that unnerved him.

And just before he pulled away from her, clinging to him as the flashes tore through her mind, she saw him watching her. She felt wanting, lusting, and a spark, a thrill when he entered the diner that night to return her stolen journal, to find her alone.

Liz found herself in a heap on the floor, knees scraped against the concrete, and hands planted to the cold surface. She was panting, and crying – for some reason. She could hear Michael breathing somewhere nearby.

“What’d you see?” he asked between gulps of air.

“You,” she answered, trying to control the tears that were running down her cheeks. She cried harder.

“Maria never saw anything.” He sounded angry.

“I've always been better at connecting. I think it's got something to do with being shot and healed. It's easier for me, I think.” It was a speculation she’d had for a long time. Ever since she woke up in the desert with Max and the communication stones.

“Yeah, maybe.” His breathing was becoming more regular, less labored and she chanced a glance in his direction. He was sitting on the lawn chair, holding his head in his hands. His back rose and fell as he took deep, calming breaths.

“Did you see?” she asked, remembering for the first time that she didn’t concentrate like she should have on the flashes he was supposed to see.

“I don’t know. It was all so jumbled.”

“Did you see Max?”

“Yeah,” he answered very quickly and Liz took that to mean that he probably saw more of Max than he ever wanted to.

“Sorry.” She blushed and looked away. “What about an older looking Max?” He looked up at that; clearly he hadn’t seen it all. She waved off the inevitable question that he was poised to ask. “I wasn’t concentrating.”

He chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah.”

She stood on shaky legs and walked to his side. Careful not to touch him, she sat down beside him on the chair. After another minute of trying and failing to control the roaring in her ears, she turned to him. Slowly, she touched his chin and guided it until their eyes met. She leaned in, until their lips were only inches apart. “Just focus on what I’m showing you,” she whispered, her lips nearly touching his as she spoke. She shut her eyes and thought of nothing but what she wanted him to see.

This time, the kiss was softer. She gently moved her lips over his as she inched her arms around his neck. Concentrating on Future Max, she felt him shift on the lawn chair, nudging her into an awkward angle. The kiss became more heated, and in an effort to stay in control and focus, she moved one leg around his waist, so that she was now straddling his lap.

This time, the connection was much faster, and stronger. She saw herself in the desert, too scared to help him when he was sick. And the anger when Max turned to her. She saw a swirling galaxy, and the ‘V’ constellation. She felt the power and anger and fear from last May, when he killed Pierce. She felt bile in her throat and the choking tears as he sobbed later into his hands. He was scared of himself, scared for his family, scared to lose everything.

But she pushed each flash back and aside as soon as it came to the forefront of her mind, instead trying to concentrate everything on what she wanted him to see.

Suddenly, his hands flew to her face, holding her tightly. His fingers tangled in her hair, and the kiss became something completely different. It was desperate and frantic, like he was trying to claw his way into her mind. She stopped getting flashes, but held onto the memories she wished him to see.

Through the haze of lips and skin, she registered his voice, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying, or even if it were words at all. He lifted her up and pressed her down against the chair. Her breath came in short puffs as she began to lose control. Her concentration started to ebb as his hands found bare skin on her stomach and he let the full weight of his body stretch across her.

Instinctively, her legs moved to wrap around his middle, pulling him even closer. And her nails grazed along the exposed skin of his arms. His lips traveled down her neck, and she clamped her eyes shut, willing every ounce of self-control she had to focus on her memories. But as his hands reached for the waistband of her pajamas, the last tether of concentration vanished. And she could feel his erection against her thigh.

She bucked her hips against his, and was lost to a sea of images that had nothing to do with alien wars or past lives. It was all her, her skin, her lips, her breasts and thighs spread wide as he positioned himself between her legs. It was hot and made her itch to be touched, licked, held down so she wouldn’t spiral away.

“Michael,” she gasped, trying to fend off the fantasies he was flooding her mind with.

“Can’t,” he mumbled into her chest, his lips brushing over the thin fabric of her shirt. “Can’t stop.” She arched her chest to meet his lips.

And suddenly things fell into alignment. It all made sense; why she would have slept with Max a week ago, even though she’d never given it the proper thought. Why they couldn’t stop all those months ago in the desert. It was chemical, physiological. Something in her reacted to this. And she was incapable of stopping now, even if she wanted to. It was like air, like breathing. It was a compulsion.

She needed this. She needed him.

“Fuck,” he growled into her mouth and tore her shirt and the straps of her bra trying to yank them down her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he apologized and touched bare flesh.

And even though her shirt was ruined, she knew that wasn’t what he was apologizing for. She knew it was because he couldn’t control himself or the situation they’d gotten themselves into any more than she could.

“Don’t,” she replied, pulling his shirt up and off, smearing her lips across his cheek to nibble on his earlobe. “Don’t stop.”

Everywhere he touched was like fire. And where his lips touched bare skin, virgin skin, she arched into him, and held on for dear life. She could see him, feel him, sense his thoughts in her mind like they were nothing but opposing points of view in her own head. She surrendered to him, yielded to his hands and lips and beautiful skin that met with hers.

They undressed, hurriedly, sloppy, all hands and limbs and aching need. And when they were finally stretched bare, nipping, shaking, gasping – she dared to look him in the eyes. And all she saw was indecision. Like he wasn’t sure what to do now that he had his gift unwrapped.

She giggled, lightly, into her shoulder and touched the side of his face. It seemed to draw him out of whatever thought held his hands back from her.

“Is this real?” he asked, touching his lips to her cheek as his hips gently nudged her knees apart.

“It’s real,” she whispered in response and let her head fall back. And instantly, the spell was broken. That demanding, urging sensation that spurned them on, made her feel like she’d die – just die if he didn’t touch her, was gone. And they were left with two bodies, nearly joined and the implications of what it would mean.

Liz watched his face. She saw the disappointment, the shame, and frustration as Michael, no doubt, had come to the same conclusion she had. They were back in control.

“Did you see?” she asked, barely breathed it, for fear of moving against him.

“I saw all of it.” He was careful to keep himself still, but his arms were beginning to shake from holding himself up.

“I can’t stay here.” And despite the grief that gripped at her, and the impossible situation of untangling limbs from hearts just then, she smiled. She was sure it was sad and looked pitiful, but still, it wasn’t all bad. “At least you’ll be safe now.” And she didn’t even try to preface the sentiment with the notion of ‘you all’ verses ‘you’.

“It wasn’t your decision to make.” Watching him shiver from the cool night air, from the sensation of being naked, from his arms losing strength, from the frustration of not just getting on with it – Liz was surprised to find that part of her still wanted this. Wanted him. Even though she knew what it would mean.

It meant losing Max forever. Pretending to sleep with Kyle was bad enough, but at least then, she knew the truth. Kyle knew, and in her heart she always hoped that someday Max would know too. But sleeping with Michael, here, now, meant losing that. She could never go back to him after this betrayal.

Maria was Maria. And she would be pissed for a long time. But, eventually, she’d understand. And probably say something smug, like “my moon-man was better.” Before she burst into tears and forgave her.

But even with knowing all that, she wanted this. A night to be normal-ish. A night to be selfish, and for once, not think about the consequences, and take a chance on something unexpected. She wanted to do this for her, because since she’d met all of them, really found out who they were, she hadn’t even considered what it meant giving up. And this was Michael, after all. He was safe. Someone who, now, knew more about her than almost anyone else in the world. And he kept looking at her like he’d never seen anything he wanted so badly in his whole life.

It was nice to feel wanted, to feel safe. And the idea of leaving in the morning, no strings attached, was more appealing than anything.

“No strings,” she offered, and meant it.

Michael cocked his head a little and waited the span of half a heartbeat before he came crashing into her. “You’re sure?” he asked, already running his hands over her skin, spreading her thighs like parting the Red Sea.

She moaned into his neck and nodded. “I want this.”

That was the end of the discussion. What proceeded was marked with teeth and nails and awkward knees, vying for top billing on the less-than-stable lawn furniture. She arched and hiked her legs around his waist, pulling him to her in those fleeting moments when he looked too scared or timid to do it himself.

“Michael,” she whispered and wrapped her arms around his neck, desperately trying to hold on as her whole body began to vibrate.

“Just breathe,” he instructed and folded one arm between her back and the chair, lifting her to him, angled just right, so right she felt like she’d never be sure of anything but this ever again.

And together they fell. Past spiraling galaxies, and twin-suns, past moons that danced and stretched and pulled until the skin of their crust tore from strain. Past all reason and logic, past science and faith. Past all things relative and possible until Liz felt like she was made of maybes and what-ifs. Ethereal and tremors and oh, it felt like dying and birthing and her first memory of spring. She was made of amber light and bound to Michael with cells and subatomic particles that danced, just like the moons, around each other.

She didn’t know how long it lasted, she forgot to count, but it felt like it could have been forever before she found herself halfway between the chair and the floor. The blanket was wrapped around their legs like a net, and Michael was wearing a smile she’d never seen before.

It was all secret and joy, and ‘My God,’ she thought, ‘I’ve never seen him look so happy before.’ There was electricity between them still, static and otherwise. Because when she moved her leg up and grazed over the curve of his ass, there was a spark.

They didn't talk; just filled the space with breathing and fleeting looks. Until eventually Michael extricated himself from her and stood on uneven legs, and pieced his outfit back together. Minus a sock.

When he was dressed, after what only took a few minutes, he turned back to her. The ghost of a smile faded into the shadows that covered his face. She’d managed to pull the blanket up to cover herself, more for modesty’s sake than the chill. Her body was still warm, and tingled just slightly where the fabric of the blanket met with her skin.

“So?” he prompted, one arm scratching the back of his head.

“So,” she responded and blushed seven shades of red. “Thanks.”

He laughed, and she smiled. Because, really, this was the most awkward moment in the history of the earth, Liz was sure of it.

“How long until you leave?” he asked, a bit of the smile sliding from his face.

“Not long,” she answered without much concept of time, but still the ever-pressing loom of a deadline hovering over her. Like her internal clock was still counting down.

“Tell me what happened,” he said, already knowing enough to know he needed more information.

Liz nodded, and busied herself with replacing what was left of her clothes. She spoke as she dressed under the billow of the blankets, suddenly too embarrassed to let him see her naked. “He came to me a week ago, out of the blue. Well,” she looked over her shoulder at him, “from a flash of light.” She smiled and hopped from foot to foot as she tugged on her pajama pants under the blankets. “It was after Maria took me to see her psychic. She said that there was an important man in my life, with an important destiny, but that he was going to choose me.” The prickle of tears weighed heavy, and she sat on the lawn chair opposite him. “At first I thought he was a shapeshifter or something. But he knew what was going to happen. He knew Max would come to my window with a…” And for the first time in a week, she really laughed.

“A what?” Michael asked, oblivious as to what was so funny.

“A mariachi band!” she blurted out, and cackled with laughter. Michael, at hearing what Max had planned, also burst out laughing.

“A what?!”

“A mariachi band! He sang, and had a hat and everything!” It was nice, to share a moment of levity with anyone. And it was nice to share it with Michael, since she doubted any other people in the world could have enjoyed it as much as Michael did. And all of a sudden, what they'd just done hit her. The betrayal, the grief, the regret and horror.

“Oh, god. Michael, he told me I was going to sleep with him, and we’d become inseparable and eventually Tess left Roswell, and the planet, I guess. Then when your enemies came to earth you weren't strong enough to defeat them. So I had to make him fall out of love with me.” She began to cry. And the look on his face said all it needed to. He felt it too. Guilt. Deep, cutting, painful guilt. So she pushed past the guilt and bile rushing to her throat; she needed to say what needed saying and then she wanted to run and hide in TrC until she was 90 and so old and senile she couldn't remember what it was like to betray everyone and everything she was.

“So I did everything I could think of. I told him I didn’t want him, I told him I didn’t want to die for him. I even tried to push Tess at him.” She was rushing now, pushing to get everything out before the debilitating regret took over. “But the only thing that worked was Kyle. I faked it. I didn’t really sleep with him, but I knew Max would come and I wanted him to see us together. And it worked. And before he disappeared, the Max from the future told me about the wedding I will never have. The life I will never live. And I can’t. I can’t stay. Especially not now.” She tilted her head as she said it, and he turned away, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I’ve messed everything up. You can never tell Maria. She wouldn’t forgive either of us.” Because now that the haze of hormones had dissipated, she recognized the truth of it. And she could tell that he did too.

“I swear, you can trust me, with everything.” She could see the duty he felt, the job he had just undertaken, like he’d volunteered for a mission.

“The granolith can be a time machine. It’s very powerful, so be careful. And there will be a girl named Serena. She will be a friend; she will be useful. Keep an eye on Tess; keep her close and included. But there’s still something I don’t trust about her. In the future, when your enemies came, Max never said so but I wonder if she was part of it. If she was with them. Just be careful of her. Anyone with the power to bend someone’s mind has to have the will to use that power. And that makes her dangerous. But you can’t do it without her.” She let her words tumble out in a rush of truth and conjecture, anything to give them a fighting chance. And he just kept nodding. “I won't be far, if you need me. But my place isn’t here, it isn’t at Max’s side. And until he understands and believes that, I can’t come back.”

“Liz.” Michael leaned over, a hand outstretched, like he was asking for something.

“Just keep an eye out.” And with that, she stood, suddenly needing space from him and his hands and lips and all the truth he now knew. She took a step back towards the opened window, like an escape.

He frowned. “I guess I should be going then.” He stood but didn’t move.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t mean to--”

“I know,” he cut her off. “It’s okay.”

There were tears on her cheeks again. And she was so sick of crying. So sick of feeling helpless. “I’ll be back. I don’t know when. But someday, after I’ve learned how to help - I’ll come back.”

“You don’t need to prove anything,” Michael whispered and stepped towards her. And this time, she didn’t pull away. She let him hug her. Let him touch the side of her face, wipe away a tear and lean in to kiss her.

It was soft, just the fleeting feeling of lips pressed against hers. But it was enough. God, it was more than enough. “Keep them safe,” she said softly and touched his face.

This was going to be the last time she saw him for a long time, she could tell. And it was selfish and horrible, but she wanted to remember it. Remember him. Remember the way he looked at her in the moonlight, like she was beautiful. Like he was proud of her.

“I swear it,” he said before he turned to leave.

She was tired, but she was sure she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Her dad would be up soon, and they had a long drive ahead of them. She would sleep in the car, when she was too exhausted to worry about things like ancient alien relics and losing her virginity to her best friend’s boyfriend.

He gave her one last look before he crawled over the ledge of her balcony and back down the drainpipe. And for a second, she almost ran after him, begged him to stay. But she didn’t. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she knew better.[2] She knew the faster she forgot about tonight, the better off she would be.

Maybe someday she would come back. She always did; even when she’d fled to Florida for the summer, she couldn’t manage to keep away. Like she was drawn to them for some reason. Her life was so tied up with theirs, with all of them. She knew better than to think this was goodbye.

She just needed some time to think, some space to grow into whoever she was going to be. Without the shadow of Max Evans looming over her. And when she came back, she would be better. A better person, a better daughter, a better friend.

Next time she saw Michael, she really wanted to be able to show him she could protect them too. And she already knew the best way she could help them would be to learn everything she could about the Granolith. She already knew what it was capable of; she just had to figure out how it was possible. They needed someone who understood the science of alien technology, and Liz was convinced it would be her. She would track down Serena and learn everything she could.

And when she came back, she would finally be able to help. Without sacrificing her destiny or jumping off bridges.

Without sacrificing herself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [1] <http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/cityandcolour/constantknot.html>
> 
> [2] <http://rosweldrmr.tumblr.com/post/128200079559>


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